


not a danger

by boston_sized_city



Category: The AM Archives (Podcast), The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Ableism, Autism, Autistic Oliver Ritz, Gen, Teenage Oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27501718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boston_sized_city/pseuds/boston_sized_city
Summary: Oliver stims. He wishes he didn't.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	not a danger

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd dive into Oliver's past and give him some good angst ft. projection
> 
> CW for ableism

The equation seemed to blur on the page as Oliver stared at it, trying to make sense of any of the numbers in front of him. Every time he thought he could make sense out of even one of the parts of the equation, it seemed to get more confusing when he tried to write it out.

He started absently digging the heels of his palms hard into his thighs, feeling himself start to tense up. He grunted a little in frustration, his hands sliding off of his legs. It was never on purpose, when he started hitting himself, but it felt better than when he was forcing himself to sit still.   
He hit his hands against his legs, flapping his arms out a little more than he normally meant to. He tried looking at the problem again, but it only made it worse, and he let out another- this time a bit louder- grunt.

Someone’s chair squeaked. It didn’t help, and he wanted to cry at the noise, but he didn’t still or change his movement. He thought he might’ve been getting louder. He didn’t really know. It was sort of all blending together, turning to white noise in his head.   
And then someone was in front of his desk. He bit his cheek, hard, and went quiet, looking up. His arms kept moving. “Mr. Ritz,” the substitute teacher said. Her tone was displeased, and Oliver stilled his arms, holding his hands tight together in his lap. “Come with me, please.”

Oliver stood up, pushing his chair out and not bothering to push it back in as he followed her to the door of the classroom. He could feel everyone’s eyes burning into his as they walked, and started wringing his hands, trying to ignore it. It wasn’t working very well.  _ Freak. Special Ed. Loser. _

The teacher walked with him to the principal’s office, and he frowned, confused. Then she told him to take a seat and wait outside. Still confused, he obeyed, pulling his feet up onto the chair and scratching at his thighs. He leaned close to the door, trying to hear.

“-A danger to other students, and himself, for that matter,” the teacher was saying. Oliver’s chest tightened.  _ Danger?  _ “My daughter’s school keeps those types of kids separate.”

_ I’m not dangerous. I’m not dangerousI’mnotdangerousI’mnotI’mnotI’mnot. _

“-Oliver Ritz tested out of that program in sixth grade,” he heard the principal say calmly, when he could focus on something other than his own panic again.  _ Tested out. Tested out of being dangerous. Tested out of being different. When did he take that test?  _

He heard his substitute teacher huff. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to sink deep into the seat. Hot tears fell onto his cheeks, but he didn’t know when he’d started crying.   
“Don’t you think it’s best not to take chances when it comes to the safety of other students?”

Oliver scratched harder at his legs, whining too loudly as he tried to stop listening to the conversation and tried even more not to cry. People passing by in the hallway looked at him. He tried not to care. The tips of his fingers burned from rubbing them against the denim of his jeans. He kept going. His ears rang. “ _ I’m not a danger, I’m not, I can prove it, I promise, please let me go back with my friends.” _

“Is that guy okay?” The senior girl Oliver only vaguely recognized had probably meant to be quieter, asking the question to the sophomore she was walking with. The younger student only shrugged, steering them away from the office.

“If there’s another incident,” he heard then, and realized that the principal had gotten closer to the door. “We will look into having him retake the test.”

Oliver shut up as the door opened, but he couldn’t stop his hands in time. He knew both adults were staring at him, judging him, but he didn’t look up to confirm it. He couldn’t. Couldn’t face them, couldn’t face anyone.  _ Danger to himself.  _ He was proving them right.

He looked up when someone cleared their throat. The principal was standing in the doorway of the office, looking at him. “You can go back to class,” he said.

“I- I- Okay,” Oliver said, unsure if the words actually came out or not. He stood up, stumbling a little, and tried to hold his shaking hands still as he started the way back to the classroom.

_ Why aren't I like them? _


End file.
